The Defenition of Sorrow
by Mixara
Summary: Roxas was suffering. Every moment of every day. Agonizing sorrow drove him to madness, deepening his desire to simply end it all. Axel was the successful and musically gifted son of actor Reno Delmonte. He wanted for nothing in life. When Axel is offered a side job in Twilight Town, the last thing he expected to find was a blue-eyed boy with one foot in the grave. (some horror)
1. PROLOGUE

Author's Note:  


A story I've been meaning to type up. I feel like there are things no one ever wants to touch upon when it comes to the difficulties of human life. Especially when we feel more lost and alone then we care to admit. I want to put this into a story that can connect to others, and Axel and Roxas fit the bill for me. Take it easy on me though, everyone. I'm a newbie. Cut me some slack and but the torches away, yeah?

DISCLAIMER:

I don't own anything except the writing style and story telling stuff. But I'm pretty sure you should already know that. -shrugs-

Here ya go, peeps. Enjoy a prologue while I work on the chapters.

**PROLOGUE: The Paltry Existence**

It was a shambling mess, an unrecognizable clump of colors drenched in the darkest of hues. The world in his eyes was no longer what it used to be, and his heart simply couldn't take it. The agonizing pain in his chest was so unbearably strong. How..? How could he go on living with this pain? Why would he even think to?

"It'll be alright", Hayner had said, an uncertain smile on his face, "Things like this pass with time, you know. Right now, we just want to let you know that we are all here for you." His face was creased with worry, fear shining in his eyes.

He was a liar. Everyone was. They said it would go away. But it never did. The hollow pit in his heart never filled. The sanity reducing sorrow, the incomprehensible stab of loneliness and regret that lined the very walls of his soul. Nothing ever mattered, nothing ever felt 'real' to him. Nothing. Where was the sunlight that was supposed to give him hope? Where was the silver lining he was to be waiting upon, eagerly welcoming the heavenly promise of salvation as the darkness lay at his feet? Where? It was never seen.

The sun was shining. He knew it. He could feel its burning rays on his skin. Yet it was too cold, the sky far too grey. He hated that. Hated that everyone basked in the glory of that promising light, while the shadows of his own ill-devised hell caused him to see nothing but rain.

In this world, it always rained. The skies were never alight with promise or false promises. No... It was a world made, created to traitorously remind him that he would never have a place to go. That he would never belong in that god-blessed warmth he so ferverently wished to envelope his soul, frozen in time. It wasn't fair... He felt like screaming, tearing at his flesh and screaming at all those faces down below him, shedding tears that were as unrelenting as the rain that filled his world. It hurt so, so much.

His whole life; a lie. A joke. He didn't deserve happiness, and he was an idiot to think he ever did. A pitiful scream filled his ears, his own, lined with a thickening sorrow and bitterness. Nobody in this world needed him. Nobody wanted him there. No matter where he went, he was met with the foulest of luck and treated with the deepest of hatred. He didn't want to live such a lonely life, such a painful existence. He never needed anyone before. He knew he could survive without others, he had done it for so, so long.

But then that asshole... that fucking intrusive son of a bitch had to show his face and actually give him HOPE. He felt the stirrings of warmth in his heart when that red-headed punk was around. The first real emotions of love and friendship he had ever come to know. But then... then...

Roxas let out another agonized scream, clutching at his chest. The memory of that betrayal was too great to remember. No, instead he would forget. He would destroy that memory... by permanently eradicating his existence altogether. For such an emotion as 'Love' to come to mind. He almost spat with resentment.

"It's simply lust", he spoke hoarsely into the wind, hands clasped over his heart in agony, 'Just...lust..."

But when he remembered those jade green eyes, filling the darkness around him with something powerful, his heart throbbed painfully in his chest.

"To exist without the one you love the most..."

The wind was colder near the edge.

"To live without a heart unable to mend."

He took one step forward.

"To be forgotten regardless of how desperately you tried to remain."

Another step.

"He doesn't need me anymore..."

Numbness took over, then, arms falling to his sides, empty blue eyes gazing at the distant faces on the street below. He closed his eyes, leaning forward, feeling himself fall ever so slowly off the edge, welcoming the oblivion that was soon to come... when a sudden loud yell, filled with such fear and shock echoed on the rooftop;

"ROXAS!"

END PROLOGUE

(And now the fun begins.)


	2. CHAPTER ONE: Free Fall

Here's the first chapter, peeps.

**CHAPTER ONE: Free Fall**

A cold breeze rustled the dingy shades ... The autumn rain filling the air with a lullaby that Roxas found to be soothing. He sat, leaning halfway out his small window, listening to that solemn song of rainfall. He didn't want to move... didn't want to think. It was a Friday morning, the skies alight with grey clouds and distant thunder that singnaled the start of another gloomy day. Roxas inhaled deeply, staring at the washed out world below him from the eight floor of his apartment complex. It was the solitary moments like these that filled his day and caused him to remember all of the regrets his life left him with. He was all alone... in this broken down part of town, without a single friend to fill the empty moments with. Hayner, Pence and Olette had all gone off to Destiny Islands University, leaving him with a promise to come back someday to get him, and to always keep in touch. That promise had long since been broken... Roxas hadn't heard from them in nearly two years. Was he really so easy to forget..? He buried his face in the crook of his arm, feeling a twinge in his chest.

Hayner...Pence...Olette...

A buzzing sound distracted him from his bleak thoughts, causing him to lift his head, scanning the small apartment around him. It was bare for the most part. A single bed pushed up against the only window, and a small table in the center of the room with a single chair. His laptop screen was black, sheets of paper strewn around it along with two or three styrafoam cups from Starbucks. Roxas assumed the battery had died sometime during the night while he was writing. No one talked to Roxas much, anymore. But he found solace in the written word, constantly typing poem after poem, posting them on a blog he started three years ago. He had no followers, no friends, but that was alright. It was a space just for those wretched thoughts and feelings that plagued his mind, that induced the hellish was an escape that he could use witout causing harm to anyone or anything. He would have to remember to charge it later if he wanted to relax properly tonight.

He shifted more in his bed, pulling himself away from the window to get a better look around, the buzzing growing louder. It wasn't on the table, or on the floor, or on the kitchen counter... Where did he put that damn thing..? His gaze fell on the open door to the bathroom, his cellphone hanging on the doorknob by a black strap. The buzzing continued, but he made no move to retrieve the cell. He already knew who the message was from and what that message would say. He knew what today was.

After a few moments, the buzzing ceased, plunging the small studio back into the rythmic sound of pattering rain. With a soft sigh, Roxas leaned back out the window, closing his eyes and taking in the cold air.

A knock echoed in the tiny studio apartment. Roxas groaned. Someone was at the door.

"Mr. Kentell? It's me, Sasha. Are you home?"

The landlady... Roxas didn't like her. She was always trying to talk to him. Trying to soothe his loneliness. She was always smiling, always laughing. Always cheerful. It unnerved the hell out of him that she would constantly try to direct some of that sunny behavior his way. No one could ever be that happy all the time. No one. Not even Sora.

"Mr. Kentell? Hello?" More knocking, this time a little more insistent. "Dr. Gainsborough is here, she's waiting downstairs for you. She says it's imperative that you come down immediatly.." Sasha's voice was hesitant, uncertain. "I... I'm not allowed to let her come up since she isn't a resident, but she won't leave. Can you please come down?"

Roxas ran a hand roughly through his hair tugging harshly at it. God, couldn't he just be left alone for a little while? His aggravation began to rise as she knocked unrelentingly at the old wooden door. The last thing he wanted was to get up from his bed and face yet another day of his life. He just wanted to stay here, to listen to the rain and let his emotions bleed out. He felt so tired...

"Yeah." Roxas said finally, the incessant knocking grating on his sanity to the point where he was ready to snarl at the girl. Getting up, he retrieved his black hoodie from the edge of the bed, "I'll be down in a few."

Sasha sighed with relief from behind the door, her usual cheery tone coming back."Do you want me to accompany you to-"

"I'm not a child, Sasha." Roxas spat suddenly, swinging the door open and glaring venemously at the small latino woman, "I can walk myself down."

Sasha took a step back, her faced filled with fear. She let out a squeak of acknowledgement and walked quickly down the hall to the elevator. But not without a final backwards glance at the moody blonde before the doors closed. She had looked genuinely hurt by the cruel tone he directed at her.

Roxas gripped the handle to the front door tightly, clenching his jaw. He felt bad for being so mean... but at the same time, he felt aggravated. He hated it when people treated him with a friendliness he felt was forced. He felt like they were doing it out of pity, out of some ridiculous need to establish that they were decent people who helped out mentally fucked up people like him. He didn't need their sympathy. He didn't need anyone's kindness. Turning back, he grabbed his house keys and shoved his feet into a pair of checkered hightop converse. The day would be a long one, of that he knew for sure. Long days meant longer intervals where his demons would have reign over his mind, causing his temper to prove more difficult to keep in check. Roxas didn't want to be that way... he didn't want to run and scare little latino women who were only trying to be kind, or slamming things against the walls because he couldn't find proper release from the bitterness, or injure himself because the hurt that was lodged deep inside never seemed to go away. He let out a miserable sigh, clicking the door shut behind him before trudging down the hall. Why was it so hard to keep his emotions in check..? Maybe there really was something wrong with him...

Once the elevator doors opened and he stepped out, Dr. Gainsborough greeted him with a kind smile and warm was a pretty and petite woman, brown hair tied back in a braid, a pink skirt and pink blouse being her choice of wardrobe today. Her heels clicked on the tiled floor as she walked over to him, placing a hand on his shoulder.

"Hey there, Roxas. Did you sleep well?" Her green eyes scanned his, a hint of worry in their depths.

He shrugged slightly, shifting in place. "Yeah, sure." Being around her made him uncomfortable, like she was looking right through him.

Dr. Aerith Gainsborough smiled again and ushered him out the door, thanking the uncertain looking Sasha for all of her help. Roxas avoided her gaze as he exited the building, not wanting to feel any worse about his previous behavior. He'd remind himself later to try and apologize to her when he got the chance, because after all, she was one of the ones who helped him get this place, (shitty as it may be), and offer him a shelter from the coming winter. It may not be perfect, but the heat and electricity were free. Which is better than nothing.

Stepping out into the damp morning air had such a healing effect on his nerves. The rain felt so good on his face, the fog settling in around the town making him feel a strange sense of security. Twilight Town was never normally seen having this kind of weather during the fall season and it took some by surprise. The roads were hard to see, and the rain hadn't ceased for about two days. He walked up to the the prius while his psychiatrist rambled on about something dealing with the streets and the fog. But he wasn't listening. Even as they drove off, his mind never focused on her words, never made the attempt to converse in any way. The sound of the rain was his only consolance... the blessed sound of that lullaby entranced him to no end.

"...So they decided to agree upon the treatment, and we'll be starting it today."

Roxas looked up suddenly, his stomach churning. "What?"

"They wanted to start you on some new treatment, you know, just to see if it might help this time around." She glanced briefly at the blonde, her tone taking on that of a mother trying to convince a scared child, "It's only going to be for a couple of months, and they say the treatment has a high success rate with most patients in your... situation."

"Treatment? What the hell do you mean, 'Treatment'? I'm not some hospital patient, you know. Dr. Gainsborough, I thought you said there wouldn't be anymore weird tests and shit." Roxas clearly remembered the last 'treatment' they tried on him. It put him in a nightmare induced coma for six months. Not a single person came by to visit him. No one even cared. "Whatever it is, I'm refusing it. No way in hell am I being a fucking guinea pig again."

Aerith tightened her grip on the steering wheel, her face filled with an unknown emotion. "Roxas... I'm afraid there isn't much I can do. They said that you... aren't making any progress, and if you hope to get better, this treatment is needed."

Roxas felt his face and chest burn with anger, hands clenching painfully. "I'm not trying to get 'better'. I'm not trying to be healed." He seethed. "My parents dropped me on your lap in the hopes that they could get out of claiming responsibility for another kid. They wanted you to shove pills down my throat and make me sing my fucking 'ABC's' like a good boy so they wouldn't have to deal with the embarassment of facing the mistake they made on their second honeymoon twenty years ago."

"Roxas, that's not why they-"

"Yes it is!" He yelled, slamming his hand on the car door, "I'm not 'broken'! I don't need to be 'fixed' by all these fucking treatments and sessions! I'm not a psycho! And I know for a fact that they fed you all some bullshit lies so you could jot down on your little fucking notepads that I'm a fucking invalid who needs constant supervision!"

"Roxas... they just think you need a little help to-"

"I don't NEED their help!" his voice cracked. Roxas knew. Every day he could feel the darkness closing in around him, the icy fingers of fear threatening to launch him into a panic driven suicide. He knew he needed some form of help... It just sucked to have to willingly offer yourself to a bunch of quack-jobs at some newly established psychiatric clinic on the wrong side of town. He felt like a frog pinned to a tray beneath blinding lights, waiting for the first slice of the scalpel on his flesh... Roxas shuddered.

Aerith sighed softly, pulling the car to a complete stop in front of a tall black building. The silence in the car was unnerving. One look at her face, and he knew the argument was a lost cause. There was nothing he could do. Nothing he could say... his parents had successfully lied through their teeth and gotten away with it. As they exited the car, the rain began to pick up, heavy torrents of water drenching them both as they ran for the double doors of St. Vincent's Psychiatric Clinic. In the lobby, two men awaited them. A very large older man whose nametag read 'Lexaus' took a step forward and grabbed Roxas's arm. The second one, who stood in front of Roxas had silver hair and tan skin, his golden eyes shining with someting malevolent.

"Hello, Roxas." the tanned man crooned, a smile on his face. "We have a new treatment for you that we would like to try today. Please, follow me."

There was no doubt in his mind that 'helping' Roxas was the last thing these psychopaths had on their minds today.

The couch was made of leather and surprisingly comfortable. The room was decorated with large bookshelfs and potted plants that stood in the corners. The walls were a faded olive green, the floor made of dark wood. Roxas stared out the window, the torrents of rain beating against the large windows that spanned the entirty of the wall, a small bay window with a seat being the only difference on the far corner of the room. He gazed at the storm raging, mind blank, eyes glazed.

"Hm. The treatment should yield results in a few months. But I doubt the boy will take the pills. Just bring him in every other week for a shot." There was a sound of clinking and metal. "He is notably calmer, at least. Which, given his foul attitude is a defenite plus. Had to wrestle the brat for ten minutes before we could subdue him." He heard a snicker.

"Xehanort, sir? The file on patient Roxas Keller was transferred just now." shuffling, then the sounds of shifting paper. A deep voice spoke quietly somewhere in the room.

"Manic Depression? What for, I wonder."

A humorless laugh answered, "His whole life, I presume." Xehanort scoffed and stared down at the catatonic boy. "The parents didn't want him, claiming that he wasn't even meant to be born. Kept trying to either kill him or give him away. Said he was a mistake they would rather not take responsibility for. He suffered a lot of mental trauma from those incidents, causing his teenage years to fall into reckless habits including self-harm. His ability to cope with society was hindered to the point where he can't function properly in large groups of people. So says his file, anyway. Someone wanted to take care of this little 'issue', and contacted us to make sure this little problem child never bothered anyone again."

The room was silent for a brief moment. The deep voice sounded perplexed. "You mean they bribed the higher ups into admitting this kid into our care?"

"Naturally, we are not allowed to speak of the matter. However," the sound of papers again... he couldn't seem to focus... "Regardless of whether or not that statement has evidence to back it up, his rash decisions and past mistakes are enough of an excuse to keep him here. They don't want to waste money on keeping him in an asylum up on Hollow Bastion. So they pay for a small room somewhere downtown for him, and force him into treatment every other use him for research purposes, they get him out of their hair, we get paid, they reap the benefits, boom; everyone is happy."

"Everyone except him." The deep voice commented.

A female voice called from down the hall, interrupting the discussion. Roxas couldn't hear what it was she was saying, but her tone indicated that the matter was urgent. There was a brief curse and clattering movement across the room before a loud buzzing noise filled the room.

"Get me the nurse from the west wing, and tell her to come up to treatment room two. We have a Roxas Kendell on treatment and he needs supervision." The crackling buzz sounded once more with an unintelligable answer and was then clicked off. "Lexaus, grab that bag in the corner and take it to Dr. Gainsborough. There's a file in there that I need her to take a look at concerning the patient in the east wing..."

The voices gradually grew distant until the room was filled only with the sound of the squall outside. Roxas was left in the olive colored room by himself. The medicine they injected into his arm burned painfully, coursing up his arm and into his chest. He felt a strange sensation at the base of his skullas ethereal sounds began to assailed his ears, the walls swaying to the sound.

'I think I'm going to puke', Roxas thought.

Nothing seemed real. He faded in and out of consciousness before he finally decided to drag his weak form upward, casting a glancing down at the needle buried in his arm. A sudden bitterness filled his heart as he gazed at the bruise the 'treatment' was leaving. It wasn't fair... It wasn't fucking fair. Why did he have to endure all of this... this bullshit while Sora, his brother, got to live away his years with a loving family on Destiny Island, going to the beach, laughing and happy and enjoying his life? Why was Roxas the one condemned at birth to a life of constant misery? There wasn't a single soul that loved him, that wanted him, that needed him! Why did it have to be HIM who wasn't meant to be born?

Reaching a shaking hand toward his right arm, he tore out the needle, blood spurting from the wound. Pressing his hand down on it, he swung his legs off the couch and stumbled toward the window. He knew from experience that they never locked the windows in the treatment rooms, because they assumed every patient would be too catatonic to attempt an Roxas had dealt with more of these 'treatments' than any other patient here, and was still able to move well enough to walk (or stumble) around.

The thunder outside grew louder, reaching his ears in a deafening tone as he fought to push open the window all the way. His vision darkened briefly as he hung his head over the window sill. The medicine was working faster than he anticipated. He needed to move fast if he wanted to escape. Swinging his right leg over the edge, he squirmed until he was straddling the sill, staring down below. Dammit, if his vision would just focus for a freaking second...He rubbed his eyes in a vain attempt to regain clarity. The darkening of his vision made it nearly impossible to determine just how high up he was, or where he would land, making him hesitate long enough to hear the voices two nurses growing closer to his room. His heart pounded as he weakly forced the rest of his body out the window. The nurses came only in time to see a pair of checkered black and white converse sail out the window.

The rushing wind was the first sensation. The a sense of flying, everything rushing past in a grey blur of cold rain. How far down was the drop? Was this a dream? His arm was burning painfully... Roxas briefly wondered if the fall would kill him, and if he would mind the death at all.

The black pavement came into focus as the world went into slow motion.

A flash of red turning the corner, a sudden scream, a startled cry as a face came into view, staring up at his falling form.

Just before he hit, a pair of emerald eyes, filled with shock, locked onto his.

"Holy shit!" the voice sounded raspy, and reached him a fraction of a second before a deafening crack was heard and his whole world went black.

Don't like how this chapter came out for some reason. But at the same time I had to keep rediting it. Today is a good day for writing, but my head is in a different place.

This story has been a plot bunny for me for a couple years, and I wanted to make a story to connect with you peeps. Help me out by leaving a review? Or a message. I'm going to work on the next chapter tonight, so any late night owls out there are welcome to hang and chat and chide me into working hard.


	3. CHAPTER TWO: The Blinding Fates

**CHAPTER TWO: The Blinding Fates**

Bleak and heavy thought of a world no longer his own, a gust of icy wind cutting him to the bone, his mind laying in pieces. An endless torrent of hateful cries tearing through the silence, screeching past and circling back. Body laid bare, arms wide open, no air capable of passing into his lungs. What hell was this? And from where did it stem? Where was he now, and what was to become?

As if to clarify the confusion in his heart, a deep rumbling voice spoke over the din, a blackened face with bright eyes of gold materializing in thin, wispy layers.

"This place you found, is a dream unwound. A damaged ravel come undone" Ghostly tones alternated as its voice grew in volume. "If you could bear the burden of your lies, would you find yourself to be stronger?" Thin fingers reached for his fear-stricken face. "If you could forget the shame filled regrets, would you live significantly longer?" Closer, and closer still. "If you could find the love you seek, would that satiate your hunger?"

Paltry whimpers bubbled from dry lips, feeble attempts to move his arms. The fear was real, so incredibly, incomprehensibly real. The wispy figure's fingers loomed over his eyes, and he fought the urge to scream in terror as he literally felt it shank them into his skull. No registering of pain, no physical indication of the motion... only a feeling of immense pressure building in his brain. The feeling of something about to explode and release a hellish scene.

The rumbling voice let out a mournful dirge, its smoky form shuddering with its cries. The din became louder, the screeches rising to a point of madness. Roxas felt his body convulsing violently as those finger clawed mercilessly at his sockets.  
"There's nothing _here_!" It wailed, "I cannot find it! Give it to me...

_GIVE IT TO ME_!

**OooOooo**

The incident had not yet registered to point of clarity yet, and to be honest, Axel was sure as hell that it probably never would if he continued to pace around outside of the guest room in the west wing hall. The small home was lit dimly by the feeble grey skies that watched his movements from beyond the arched windows. It held a persistence tension that aggravated the red-head enough to cause him to pull constantly at his fiery mane. Beyond that door was a kid he barely knew with an injury to the head and arm that made his stomach churn with panic. How in the hell was he going to explain this to his dad? What in God's name was he supposed to do now? The answer eluded him the more he paced, and at this point he was sure there was a microscopic rut forming beneath his sock covered feet by now.

Situations like this never happened to him, and being the son of a famous douchebag father like Reno meant that he went through many a strange scenario in his life that merited enough experience to give someone like Axel a definitive edge when it came to tight spots and difficult situations. But a fucking kid falling out of the sky and beaming him on the head? That wasn't something he was rehearsed for or was inclined to have knowledge to. I mean, come on! This was his FIRST visit to his father's favorite little hometown after being badgered into visiting for three years by his old man, and he already got himself into a sticky situation.

"Hey, Axel? You okay, man?" The familiar voice roused him from his belligerent thoughts, looking up to find a sandy-haired blonde offering him a bottle of cold water. "I came over as soon as I got the message from Zex." Sea green eyes cast an uncertain glance at the closed mahogany door. "Is he.. umm..."

Axel shook his head, drawing a hand through his hair, a shuddering sigh escaping his lips. Without warning, he reached past the outstretched hand and grabbed the half empty beer bottle Demyx held in his other hand, ignoring the look of mild irritation. "Yeah... kid's alive. Pretty banged up, but still alive." He mumbled, taking a long swig. Wiping an arm across his lips,he leaned against the wall, one lanky arm hanging loosely at his side.

"Soooo..." Demyx began, idly rocking back and forth on his feet, "How... exactly did this happen?" He floundered his free hand at the look he received from his best friend and quickly added, " I mean I already know a little bit of the story from Zexion, since he was the one you called to come pick you guys up and all. But he told me to ask you about all that other stuff. Kept saying something about reiterating information being too bothersome and to just get the story from you instead." Nervous hands twisted the bottle, worrying the thin plastic label wrapped around it.

After a few beats and a little bit of consideration, Axel relented with a nod and a final swig of beer. He cleared his throat setting the bottle on the floor. "I dunno, Dem. I guess it all started with my dad. He bitched at me for a couple of years to come see him. You know, typical fatherly bullshit excuses about bonding and shit." He crouched down and took a seat on the floor. Demyx followed suit, drawing his knees up to his chest, eyes trained on the red-head. "I got tired of it after a while, so I talked to Luxord about booking us a gig here in Twilight Town so I wouldn't miss out on practice for the tour. I only agreed to see him so he would stop leaving me annoying voicemails like the one on my birthday last year."

Dem smiled with knowing amusement, mimicking the drunken tone of the two hour long voicemail; "I'm not as ...think as you drunk I am...Son. Happy fukinnnnn... tenth birthday kiddo! Yeah! You get to... fukinnnnn... color and shit... use them fancy crayons and whatnot." The slurr and moronic tone was enough to send them both into a fit of laughter at the sheer remembrance. They had barely regained composure before he tossed another line, "...umm... what else... oh yeah! And always wear fukinnn... sunglasses. Keeps the tigers away. Never know when one may... _come atcha_!" He emphasis the last words with a shake of his hands, breaking into gasping hysterics. "I mean, _seriously_! Do the sunglasses make the tigers feel inferior about their fashion sense or something?" Tears streamed down their faces the harder they laughed, Axel laying face down, his mirth muffled into the carpet, his best friend gripping his side and snorting.

It was no secret that his father became a senseless imbecile whenever he drank (which was not very often since his agent warned him against anymore reckless behavior), the effects of booze both infuriating and downright the latter than the former. Though he never cared much for the flake there was no denying that his unintelligible garble was a centerpiece topic on many a grim night when the band's morale was compromised. Looking back, those messages were probably the only good thing his father ever gave him.

After a lengthy period of giggle fits and heavy sighing, the two wound down enough for Axel to continue the story, wiping the tears from his eyes. "So, yeah. Getting back to the incident. There I was, walking downtown toward the hotel after grabbing some breakfast at that little place by the park on 33rd Street, when suddenly it starts to fucking rain. Me being me, I thought, well hey, I can make it five minutes in the rain without melting and save me a couple bucks on a taxi. Now I know zilch about this town aside from a couple restaurants. But that didn't stop me from trying to backtrack to the hotel which, in hindsight probably wasn't a good idea since my basic mapping skills are mediocre at best." The beer bottle fell over as he stretched out his legs, picking at the hallway carpet with his fingers. "And lo-and-behold I got my ass more lost than Nemo after twenty minutes of backtracking. I wound up in some shit part of town where all these weirdos kept asking if I was 'Knuckles.'" He made a spastic motion with his hands, "Just who the fuck is that?"

Demyx gave a dismissive wave, "Video game character, not important to the plotline. Continue."

He shook his head. "Anyway, after dodging the weirdos I finally decided to ask this chick in a pink suit if she knew where The Terrace Hotel was." a pointed look was directed at the sandy-haired blonde. " I had somehow walked forty-five minutes in the pouring rain and landed myself nearly a two miles away from where I was supposed to be. _Two miles_. I can't even tell you how peeved I was! So I said, okay fuck this, I'm getting a taxi. There was none on the street so I go to check around the corner when next thing I know, I heard this little old granny scream 'look out!' and I'm all lookin' around like a fucking turd before I look up and see this kid make a free fall dive for my face! I stuck my arms out at the last possible second, but he still cracked his head pretty hard on the pavement. Then these nurses came out and tried to pick him up and... Everything got sort of crazy from there."

His voice left him then. A recollection of the incident replaying itself in a loop, grey colors swallowing it whole while the world slowed to a stop; a freeze frame of that pale and limp body laying haphazardly across his own. Those thin arms, one marred with thin almost unnoticeable jagged scars running up the forearm, the other sporting an angry looking bruise. The head tilted back, warm blood pouring from the back of it, dying those flaxen locks a filthy crimson. Startled beyond belief, there wasn't much he could do but sit up slowly, cradling the stranger in his arms. Time moved once more as those eyes fluttered open briefly gazing with blind inclination at the dark clouds that hovered above. Then the sensation of tugging, being pulled away as those stern-faced cows in the nurse uniforms appeared, moving Axel away from the kid and making an attempt to pick him up.

He stood there, unable to make heads or tails of precisely what was occurring in front of him. The flaxen haired youth made a feeble attempt to fight back before falling into a patch of mud alongside the curb of the sidewalk. He tried to step forward, tried to find someway to help. But those damned nurses kept telling him to 'kindly leave the patient to them'. Axel may not have been a bright student, but even he knew that this was not the way a nurse should treat a patient. They made aggressive grabs at his arms and legs, yanking and pulling at those marred and bruising limbs. So many people gathered around, whipping out phones and cameras, whispering and gossiping, some even laughing. A sudden feeling began to bloom in his chest when the kid took another spill into the mud.

The youth laid there, body shivering, sobbing into the muddy water, attempting to drag himself away from those white-clad harpies. People laughed, pointed, jeered. Some shook their heads, but most walked away. Sapphire eyes searched those faces endlessly the misery prevalent in those pitiful sobs. But none would answer that silent plea...

Those ethereal blue orbs rested on him, a pale and trembling arm reaching out to graze its fingers atop his shoes, continually moving forward at an agonizingly slow pace until those shaking fingers locked around his ankle. His gaze fell on those eyes, and his heart nearly broke at the desperateness he saw there. A raspy plea, rendered inaudible by the rain. Mud smeared across that small face while the crowd continued to watch.

He had seen enough.

Without a second thought, Axel reached down and took that shaking hand, pulling the boy up and over his shoulder. Then, much to the shock of both the nurses and the crowd, he took off down the street.

The whole thing was a blur of motion, reckless decision making and a helluva a lot of sprinting. He booked it out of there so fast, even Usain Bolt would have been impressed. Even now his legs still ached from the little marathon he had only a few hours earlier. Though his mind contemplated if such a reckless decision was in fact the right one to make, he just simply could not ignore those sapphire eyes, wide and pleading, begging for salvation... Axel rubbed a hand roughly over his face and mumbled softly, "That look... and those scars. I can't help shudder at what caused him to end up that way..."

With a sympathetic pat to the knee, Demyx let out a sigh. "... and here I thought you were just a condescending asshole who only comes to my house to empty my fridge."

"Shut it, Dem, or I'll-"

Their banter was cut short as a blood curdling scream erupted from behind the guest room door.

**OooOooo**

My cat keeps bopping my head, trying to get me to feed him. He has no claws, so luckily it doesn't hurt, but still.

Anyway, Thanks for the reviews. Gave me more motivation to keep going with this. The next chapter will be up by tomorrow, (hopefully).

In the meantime, I want to ask. Has anybody ever fallen out a window? I have. Some scary shit right there. You're caught in between wanting to pray for entrance into heaven and wondering what use of profanity would justify the moment.


	4. CHAPTER THREE: Circumstances

**Dudes. I own nothing. Capiche?**

* * *

**CHAPTER THREE: Circumstances**

* * *

Blinding light... white and beautiful, forgiving and warm. Its very presence igniting his soul with an emotion too strong to be recognized. It stung his eyes, and he winced in pain, bringing one thin arm up to shield his face from its splendor. Roxas blinked forcefully, willing his vision to adapt to the glaring light. But the most he could make out was faded shapes that seemed to sway and dissipate. Was that... a vanity..? A chair... clothes strewn on a beige carpet. The more he focused, the clearer the image in his view became, the rest of the unfamiliar room offering more for speculation. Bleary shapes and colors gave way to a blurry silhouette sitting at foot of the bed, peculiar silver-blue hair shining in the bright glow of the lamplight from the corner of the room. His back was turned, the metallic snip of scissors reaching his ears.

"It'll be another few days before I can make it back to the city..." Roxas saw the familiar curled line of a white cord leading to the man's ear. He was on the phone. "Yes, I fully understand the implications of my actions and the effect they will have on my job as a whole." His voice was calm, not deep, but steady. "I apologize, but I received an urgent message from a band mate earlier..." There was a brief pause in the conversation, the voice on the other end of the phone becoming incredibly audible with the amount of shouting done on their end. The slate haired stranger merely took the phone from his ear briefly, waiting for the other to calm down, and replied in an even tone, "Considering his current condition and the state of compromise he faces, yes. This is far more important than the meeting. Now, if you insist on shouting at me in an uncivilized manner, I am afraid I must end this discussion where it is and we can debate further on the topic come Monday morning." Without looking up, he clicked the corded wall phone back on to the receiver in one fluid motion, the snip-snip of metal scissors more vehement now.

Whoever it was on the phone certainly put him in a foul mood. And for a brief moment, Roxas contemplated on whether or not he should feign sleep and wait for the man to leave to escape. But something told him that even if he did manage to escape, he wouldn't know which way home was, or how far he had to walk considering he had no fare for a cab. After a brief internal debate, Roxas worked his tongue around his mouth, his throat raw, a bad taste lingering insistently. He flicked his tongue out briefly to wet his dry lips. "Where am I?" he croaked.

The response was immediate, the tone business like and formal, the stranger never looking up from what he was doing. "I thought you were awake, indication being that you stopped snoring a little while ago. Though I must say, with an injury to the head like that, I was expecting you to slip into a coma." There was a brief note of humor in his voice. "Welcome back to the world of the living." The sound of the scissors seemed to slow, no longer angrily slicing through its unknown victim.

Roxas felt his cheeks heat up slightly at the thought of this complete stranger witnessing his chronic snoring habits. "Yeah more like the land of the living dead..." He mumbled, pushing himself into a sitting position. The room was in better focus, but still swayed and blurred slightly. Roxas didn't like unfamiliar places or faces. New circumstances only ever meant trouble for him. But he couldn't help the curiosity that spiked in him after his vague remembrance of a bright red head of hair and the world moving around him at top speed, the feeling of a bony shoulder in his stomach. He rubbed his stomach absent-mindedly. If he wanted answers, he might as well be civil about it.

"Who... who are you?"

The stranger turned his head slightly, scissors pausing briefly over what appeared to be a white strip of fabric. Gauze, maybe? "...I am a medical practitioner. A side hobby of mine, if you will. My name is Zexion."

"Roxas." The blonde offered with a nod, taking another sweep of the fairly large room. "Can you, ah, tell me where I am?"

"You're in the house of a passerby who managed to break your fall from your six-story plummet to the street. Lucky for you, said passerby barely sustained more than a sprained wrist and few bruises. You, on the other hand, didn't get away with such luck." There was a barely stifled sigh in that sentence that made Roxas feel sightly uneasy. "I've had to redress the wound on your head a few times and stitch a few of the cuts on your arms. Luckily for you, they aren't infected."

Roxas immediatly looked down at his arms, trying to remember when he could have possibly... but his mind went blank the moment he saw them. Long jagged lines curved up and around the forearm, angry red wounds standing out against the pale flesh they lay upon. He felt himself shaking, staring in shock, turning his arms this way and that. They were everywhere. Everywhere. From deep, clean incisions to ragged shallow scraps, each one covered with dried, crusted blood.

Zexion still hadn't turned around, now placing the strips of gauze in a neat row on his leg, "Though I have to admit, you gave me quite a start when you suddenly started screaming at me. I thought you had regained consciousness, but it seemed you were having a nightmare. Or in this case, a night terror. You got up and started tearing around the room in a panic, tossing clothes and furniture until you passed out again."

"A nightmare..?" Roxas choked. Flashes of memories he thought to be buried filled his vision. This couldn't be happening... He felt a cold panic rise in him, the feeling of thick ice water being poured slowly into his skull and slinking down his spine. His breaths became shallow and quick as that cold ethereal liquid filled his lungs, blue eyes widening in fear.

"It was actually quite commical, though. My friend came in when after hearing the scream, and you run over just to punch him in the face. Night terrors are a bit like sleep walking, only-" turned around to look at Roxas, the light humor being replaced by immediate concern. "Roxas..? Are you alright?"

Roxas began kicking the blankets off his body wildly, frantically searching around the room for something not even he was certain of. He hugged himself, trembling violently. The room. His room. The dark liquid pooling at his feel, waking up only to hear a scream shatter the silence of the night. The memories... The nightmares... the wounds... He couldn't breathe. His body started twitching and shivering, pathetic whimpers and gasps replacing any words he might have used to respond.

"Roxas?"

Zexion dropped the scissors and quickly moved to the right side of the bed, grabbing Roxas firmly by the shoulders and fixing him with a level gaze. His voice became serious, stern. "Roxas, I need you to calm down. If you don't you're going to have an anxiety attack, and in your state it could seriously compromise your condition. If you pass out from it, you may not come back next time."

But the panic wouldn't subside, the fear darkening the corners of his vision until he could barely make out the world around him. Those cuts looked so god awful, so... fresh. Did he do this to himself? Did the nightmares from his inner hell finally cross over to the waking world and cause him to literally maime himself, like it had years ago? Oh please, no. God, no. The dreams alone were something he was barely able to cope with, but having them follow him into the real world, forcibly causing him to mutilate his own body?It couldn't have reached this point already... Dr. Gainsborough told him it would never go back to that... that it would never happen again. He didn't want to wake up in his own blood, didn't want to fear the realm of slumber because it threatened to kill him. The images kept rushing back, looping again and again in his mind. The hallway light shining in, glinting on the knife, blood pouring down his neck... He felt bile rising in his throat, the cold fear spiking in his gut.

Dark blue eyes flicked back and forth at those fearful sapphire depths, lips pressed together in a thin line. "Look at me. HEY. Look at me. The cuts aren't that deep, despite how they look. You're not bleeding to death, you're going to be alright." Was the kid hemophobic? He contemplated that for a moment before tossing the idea out. Roxas wasn't staring at the blood, and seemed to be constantly touching his neck and checking his body for other marks... The hands on his shoulders tightened fractionally, a slight shake given unto the violently trembling frame. That face was becoming paler by the second.  
"Can you hear me, Roxas? Hey! Say something!" a hint of panic colored those words, hands fighting to keep a grip on the wriggling and petrified youth before him. If he didn't calm the kid down soon...  
Zexion quickly grabbed the boy and hugged him tightly, rubbing his back to try and soothe the tremors that wracked his body. "It's going to be alright, Roxas. You're okay, There's no need to be afraid. You're okay. You're okay..." Though he had to admit to himself that this method was more than a little unorthoodox for someone like him, sometimes being methodical and logical about situations like this would only work for so long. And talking sense into a person on the verge of an anxiety attack wasn't an easy task. So he held him instead. Soothing words and gestures gradually lulling the boy into a less frantic state of mind.

Choked, frantic words met Zexion's ears, but he couldn't be sure what it was the blonde was trying to say. "What? Roxas, I can't hear you. Just breathe... breathe and tell me what's wrong."

"Did..-" Roxas struggled to speak. Struggled to breath. Afraid of the answer he might receive, "Did I..?"

The question wasn't spoken completely, but the implication gave enough evidence as to what he was attempting to say. The realization of where the sudden fear had stemmed from caused Zexion to pull back, arms still on Roxas' shoulders. He stared briefly, dark eyes filling with a sudden curiosity. "No." He said quickly, insistently. "No. They aren't self-inflicted. The shallower cuts were made by the nurses Axel told me about. They handled you rather roughly, and you fell on a glass bottle at some point during the skirmish. No one seemed to notice until after you had been brought here."

Roxas looked almost overcome with relief, his pale hands clenching as he blinked rapidly. It took a few minutes before he could speak, though his voice was slightly higher in pitch and still contained a rasp that spoke of thirst. "A...A glass bottle?"

He loosened his grip on those thin shoulders, taking a step back, regarding the blonde carefully. "Yes. You fell on it, and tried to crawl away from the nurses." He replied slowly. The answer seemed to be enough for the blonde, as he leaned back against the headboard, letting out a small but shaky sigh.

Zexion stood up, crossing his arms. Just what was this kid so freaked out about earlier? It didn't seem natural that he would nearly have an anxiety attack seemingly out of the blue.A thought briefly crossed his mind just then, burning with intensity before he shook it away. The sudden reaction Roxas had to mere cuts on his arms startled him a bit, but the questions that burned in his mind were not his to be asking. Nor were they directly in his field of ability, besides, he didn't want to spark another episode with this one. Such unstable and unpredictable practices were better left to the professionals. "Wait here a moment." Zexion said, walking briskly to a mahogany door that stood at the far end of the room. Swinging it open, he leaned out into the hall. The window was open again, and the storm outside had waned into average rainfall. Axel and Demyx sat side by side, each holding a DS and pointing at the other ones screen, murmuring unintelligably to eachother.  
Well... at least they were being quiet for once.

"Hey." the redhead and sandy blonde looked up in unison, curiosity prevalent in those gazes as they blinked in response to his sudden appearence in the hall. "Can one of you retrieve a bottle of cold water for me?"

Axel gave a face and shut the DS. "Retrieve? What am I, a dog?"

Demyx clicked his tongue, mimicing Axel and shutting his DS, placing it on the floor before standing up and patting Zexion on the shoulder. "Don't listen to him, Zex. He's grumpy because I got more rupees than he did." Axel flipped him off. "I'll get it."

"That guy is always too happy to help people. Could ask him to take out his own mother and he'd just ask you what tool you preferred for the job." Axel grumbled, standing up and yawning loudly.

"At least he doesn't have ulterior motives. You could take a lesson in learning from Demyx." Zexion countered, leaning against the door frame and crossing his arms. "This is your house anyway. I'm surprised you're letting him get the water instead, considering his track record. What was it now? Three broken vases, six new appliances and a heavy debt with a red guitar?"

A chuckled echoed in the hall as the redheaded punk strode lazily over to the window. "Ah, well. It's a bottle of water. Not sure how he could possibly fuck that up. Besides. If I recall correctly, you could also take a lesson from that idiot. You never seem to do anything for anyone else unless it comes with personal profit. Much like me."

"You would think," Zexion began, eyes narrowing slightly as they fixed the punk with a pointed look, "That leaving work early to come and pick you up which would merit termination considering I was in the middle of a meeting, making up several excuses as to why I have a mentally unstable patient that you inverably _kidnapped_ from a clinic downtown, and tending to the multiple injuries said patient retained would count against that claim. Wouldn't you say, Axel?"

"I'm pretty sure there's self profit in there somewhere..." the redhead sighed, scratching the back of his head. "But anyway, pleasant banter aside... how's, ah... how's the kid doing? He okay?"

Zexion was silent for a brief moment, looking back into the lamp-lit room over his shoulder before stepping out into the hall completely, shutting the door behind him. He crossed his arms again before speaking in a relatively quiet tone, staring down the hall. "He's awake now, with no noticable speech impediments or other physical indications of damaging mental trauma. Looks to be just a cracked skull and a pretty nasty concussion... However..."

Axel looked up when he trailed off, emerald eyes focusing on his face. "However..?"

"...However he did almost have an anxiety attack not too long ago when he saw the cuts on his arms. He was practically inconsolable."

"An anxiety attack? Over cuts? What is the kid afraid of blood or something? He one of them squeamish types?"

"I contemplated the possibility myself. But that doesn't seem to be the case." Dark blue eyes met green before he continued. "He asked if it was him"

Axel blinked. "He what? Wait, do you mean he asked if HE was the one who made all those cuts?"

"Yes."

"And what did you tell him?"

Zexion was quiet. His eyes looking back down the hallway, crossing his arms once more. It was a full two minutes before he spoke, his response murmured slowly. "I quelled his worries by telling him that he fell on a glass bottle during the struggle downtown with the nurses."

Silence. Zexion was never in the habit of lying. He never saw the need to hide the truth since in his eyes it would hinder the progress of the situation to the point where a repeat in history was inevitable. He kept a cool head, and an honest code. It was how he worked. Axel knew this, as did everyone else who worked with him at some point or another. Which is why both men were speechless, unable to understand why Zexion would feel the need to compromise his moral standing to appease the nerves of an absolute stranger he had met only hours ago. Something bode ill about that, and it sat heavily in the air between them.

"So you lied." there was no reply. "Well there's a first..." Axel shook his head, "What kind of mess did we land ourselves in this time." He mumbled.

Nothing else was said as he closed his eyes, pressing his back to the cold glass of the window. Only the steady drum of raindrops on the trees disturbed the air, the waning grey light that filtered through the house beginning to fade gradually as night began to fall. The stormy grey skies looked in on two as they stood in that house, untouched by the world outside that home. It was a Friday evening, filled with circumstances that had unknowingly crept upon them with a deft ease. The fates held the script in their hands, gazing down through the windows at the starring roles of the hellish play that was about to commence. The curtain raised on this rainy day, on the Friday that started it all.

* * *

**I revised it. Because I didn't like it and realized that in my sleepy stupor, I had forgotten to include something. Just... just shoot me. UGH. I need more sleep.  
**


	5. CHAPTER FOUR: Within

**If anyone is still out there, sorry for the long wait... I'm feeling alot of what Roxas is feeling right now. **

**Life can be real bummer. **

**Anyway, here ya go, my apologies. :(**

* * *

**CHAPTER FOUR: Within**

* * *

"_More rainfall coming our way this week with a hurricane warning to the south. Everyone is advised to stay indoors for the time being until a more recent update is available. There are expected to be floods in the downtown area as well. High of sixty two degrees and a low of thirty eight. That's it for the weather forecast, now back to Rebecca with. . ."_

It didn't stop. The torrential rainfall outside the guestroom window only seemed to grow in ferocity as the grey morning light glowed on the bleak site beheld by bored, sapphire eyes. Such a waste. A waste of his time, his life, to be worrying about getting soaked if he attempted the long trek back downtown to his lonely little abode. It was only water. And it wasn't a matter of where he would go now, but rather, what he would do once he was out of this ritzy, strange house. Roxas found himself tapping his fingers idly on his knee, realizing that regardless of how he rationalized, his body would remain in the same position by that window, sitting on the sill with his feet resting on a nearby chair, until the incessant rain had finally ceased. It wasn't that he hated the rain... it was just that being cold and wet wasn't exactly a comfortable thought for him. Nobody liked wet clothes...

" . . . _downtown today, a young teen was seen tossing himself out a window, allegedly falling on well known rock-star idol and lead singer of famous _  
_band 'Ruin', Axel Delmonte. We have a few videos sent by witnesses documenting the event_ . . ."

Roxas had heard the story nearly twenty times in the few hours he had been awake. The same story over and over, no matter what news station he changed it to. The female news reporters voice grated on his ears, her slightly amused tone rubbing him the wrong way as her sickeningly red lips quirked into a smug grin. With an aggravated flick of his wrist, he shut off the small television that some mullet headed psycho brought in for him the other night. What seemed like a general act of kindness suddenly seemed like an insult at the moment, the static crackling lightly over the glass dome on the old screen TV seeming almost mocking in a way. This was just... fucking perfect. A muck of a mess this all turned out to be. It wasn't enough. It was never enough. It always got worse somehow. And despite the hope that everyone so diligently promised him would show, he never saw the end to the rain. It was never enough...

"Why me." Roxas groaned quietly to himself, running a hand roughly through blonde locks, tugging abusively at them. "for once I'd like a single day where I don't feel like my life is some running joke for the universe to laugh at..."

The rain picked up once more, the sound of ethereal fingertips tapping rapidly on the glass beside him. He could smell the rain, but faintly. The cold glass pressing gently against his shoulder, the darkening skies his only witness of existence. Nothing felt right here... nothing felt real. Even with eyes glued to those morose heavens, the chill touching his skin, the whisper of fog left from his silent breaths on the window... nothing felt real. His mind pleaded his reality, his life. His heart felt hollow, and painfully so. Throughout his pathetic years of life, he never knew a time when that hollowness was ever absent. It sat, like a black bird in his chest. Heavy and agonizingly apparent. No matter how hard he tried to feel, how hard he tried to remain, there was just... nothing he could tether himself to, nothing to give him some kind of affirmation that yes, he did in fact, exist. All family members disclaiming him. What few friends he had all moved away, leaving him behind. It was one thing to feel alone. But feeling lost and without purpose was nigh on unbearable. Without anything connection to the world he resided in, Roxas felt he may drift away at any given moment, destined to be forgotten, not even a memory in place of his faded soul. Such a thought was enough to nearly make him choke of the anxiety he felt.

Roxas pushed himself away from the window, leaving the view and the dark thoughts it wrought for the comfort of the messy bed across the room. His skin felt colder than ice after that long perch, and sliding beneath the large comforter, curling up beneath its dark depths felt almost too good. The steady thrum thrum thrum of pattering on the window, the gentle hum of heat pouring through the vents in the room... A mundane lullaby, one so comforting that the anxiety in those tired, cold limbs of his seemed to dissipate. How funny it seemed, to be comforted by such everyday sounds, ones normally left to the background of one's life, never noticed but seemingly always there. It soothed him, lulled him into a deep slumber, where dreams of a crying girl in white awaited him...

* * *

"Holy fuck dude, that is a big ass cucumber." Axel whistled, a devilish smirk appearing on his face. "And just WHAT, pray tell, do you expect to do with that little number, Dem?" the barely contained amusement in his tone made Demyx give him a pointed look.

"I got this from Marluxia's garden. It was for the cucumber salad I was going to make tonight, or did you forget?" Demyx walked around the kitchen counter, pulling out various items from the shopping bags and putting them away, trying to keep the aggravation out of his voice, "And before you say anything smug, let me remind you that I don't have to make enough food for four people. I can just give your share to suicide boy."

"okay, numero uno, getting anything, and I mean, ANYTHING out of Marluxia's garden is never a good idea. Numero dos, I would clean the hell out of that monster veggie if you knew what was good for ya. And numero tres, He's not suicidal, Dem. I recall tossing you out a few myself, and you're not suicidal. In fact you're the most anti-negative thing I've come across in my life besides pizza." The redhead pulled up a chair, plopping in it unceremoniously, stretching out his long legs with a yawn. They had walked to the general store earlier that morning after finding out that nearly half of the cabinets in Reno's place was filled with booze and expired pasta boxes. They had only come to this realization when they came down with the munchies after a long night of taking turns watching the blonde kid, Zexion giving them strict orders to call him immediately if he went into another episode. Neither of them got much sleep, and both were as equally hungry as they were tired. To top it off, their clothes were soaked, and it looked like a hurricane warning had been issued. Axel peeled off his wet hoodie, squeezing out his red locks with a sigh. "Anyway, if he was, I'm pretty sure he would have made a second attempt by now, don't you think?"

He shrugged dismissively, "Yeah, well, the window incident with me was a different case entirely. But with him you never know. And seeing as how this kid doesn't seem to have a psycho for a friend who tosses others out a four story house over hair gel, I'm willing to guess that isn't the case with this one. I'd feel sorry for the kid if it were, though. I mean, seriously, I -" A loud crack of thunder followed by a flash of light cut him off, lights flickering briefly. "Shit!" Demyx squeaked, reaching down hastily to pick up a glass jar of jam that rolled off the counter when he jumped, "That fucking scared the hell out of me!"

Axel 'hmm'ed in response, leaning back in his chair. "That actually struck pretty close. I think I might go check if my old man left a generator in the basement, case the power goes out, you know? Of course, knowing him, he might have taken it somewhere to use for another of his ridiculous hair-brained schemes. Him and Rude like making home-made bombs on a regular basis. Can't tell you how many times I've had to peel his sorry ass off the garage wall after something of his blew up."

"I think I was there for once of them. Blew a hole clean through the ceiling if I remember," he chuckled, "You might want to get on that, though. Your house is run only on electric shit, and I hear it's supposed to be cold tonight. I agreed to sleep over for the week because you promised me a warm bed and some horror movies, and there is no way in hell I'm freezing my nutsack off in this frigid tomb of a house. Not good for the complexion, you know."

"I'm sorry, what? Your _complexion_? How in the hell does cold air ruin your complex-? You know what, forget it. I don't even know why I bother questioning half the shit you say anymore. I'll let Zexion do that. In the meantime, I'll get to searching for that generator." Axel stood up with a stretch, pulling off his shirt and shaking the rest of the water from his hair. "If Zexion shows up while I'm still looking for it, let him know that the first aid kit needs more bandages, and that his boss called earlier asking for some report about, ah... what was it... new-ro... nur-ro... something scientific or some shit."

Demyx gave a dorky salute before turing his attention back to the groceries that littered the counter. They had bought enough food to last for two weeks, apparently. So if worse came to worse, they would at least not have to worry about going hungry if a hurricane really was going to hit. Still, not having electricity would a kick to the proverbial balls in terms of heat. This place becomes an icebox when the power is out, even in the middle of summer. A downside to such a big place, but hey. His old man liked ritzy stuff and big houses. Fuck if he knew why. Took too much work to maintain it anyway, and Axel being the lazy son of a bitch he was, avoided hard work like the plague if he could help it.  
"Now where did I put that flashlight..." he mumbled to himself, trekking down the carpeted hall to his bedroom, "I think I last had it when pop lost his wallet in the basement that one time. So it should still be in the closet..." he pushed open the door to his room, tossing his wet clothes in the hamper and pulling on a dry pair of boxers and black pajama bottoms, but was unable to find a shirt. "Shit... looks like I need to do laundry again. Ugh. Makes me feel like a woman... not that I'm against women or something...man, I've got to stop talking to myself." Another flash of light and a loud crash sounded through the house. The fading rumble seem to vibrate the walls, making Axel feel a bit uneasy standing there in a dark room by himself. The hallway light was enough to see by, but it didn't help that it was unusually dark even though the clock on his nightstand read 10:02am. It felt... unnatural. Creepy, almost. Sudden flashbacks of the late night discussion with Zexion gave the darkness around him a whole new kind of depth, for some odd reason that was unapparent to him. The shadows seemed to shift, the room seeming smaller than before... Axel clicked on the lava lamp near the nightstand, allowing himself to believe that any source of light would ward off anymore intrusive thoughts he might have while he was in there. Still... that weird conversation did get him thinking...

* * *

_(flashback)_

"It's a lot like night terrors," he had said, "It's a lot like sleep walking, only it's ten times harder to wake up from. You wind up living through a 'waking nightmare', as it would seem. The subject will seem completely aware of their current surroundings, able to navigate properly throughout their current area. However, they cannot see anyone around them. They are unaware that they are dreaming. It comes in all forms, I suppose. In Roxas' case, it appears that he has night terrors much like the one I have explained. He was completely aware of certain things, like opting to throw certain things or attempting to escape through the open door. But he didn't actually see us. He was only aware of the immense amount of fear that he felt, and the signals to his brain indicating that he was in extreme danger."

"So... he had a night terror." he nodded. "Right... aaaannndd... if that's the case, why did he mutilate himself in his sleep? I mean... I've never really heard of sleepers who hurt themselves like that before."

Zexion seemed to think carefully, taking off his well worn pair of frameless glasses before looking back up at him. "Sometimes nightmares can be connected to traumatic experiences, ones that were suppressed by the brain at a young age. In those instances, it can come back full force in a dream. One that will cause the dreamer to re-experience the horrors they tried so desperately to forget."

Demyx cast a doleful look at the closed door to Roxas' room. "So... he's living through a moment where someone caused him that much physical pain? Was he... abused or... something?"

A grim silence had weighed between the trio as they all stood, huddled in the cold hallway. Both Axel and Demyx waited expectantly on the slate-haired man's reply. But it was a while before he could figure out the right words to say. What came out next wasn't something they were expecting at all.

"... Not abused, so much as tortured."

"What?" they had said in unison.

"There are certain things to look for when dealing with victims of abuse. Even night terrors cannot hide the symptoms that will inevitably reveal it. But this is not the case. He showed increased hysteria and nearly doubled physical strength. He seemed to be trying to escape from something, or someone. And whatever or whoever that might be was physically attempting to kill him. Or at least, that's what he said it felt like before he fell asleep again. I have reason to believe that something more might be going on here that we aren't aware of yet. However I cannot look anymore into it, as I am more than exhausted and must deal with work related grievances come morning. I trust he will be alright in your care?"

"Don't sweat it, Zexy, babe." Axel smirked, "We got this. He'll be asleep for a while, I'm guessing. You know, since you gave him those pain killers. So all we have to do is let him sleep. He'll be good as new in the morning."

"Yeah!" Demyx chimed in, all smiles. "I'm sure he'll be alright once he gets some good rest and some equally good food in his stomach! I'll make breakfast tomorrow, and a big one at that!"

Zexion's expression seemed to soften as he regarded Demyx's beaming face. "...I entrust him in your care then." He then cleared his throat and gathered his things, "I will be back around mid-morning or noon tomorrow. Make sure to keep a close eye on him. And I mean a CLOSE eye. Call me immediately if anything happens. I will be over as soon as I can."

"Right."

"You got it, man."

With a final nod and a wave, he had left. Leaving Axel with an oddly heavy feeling in the center of his chest. Whatever it was this kid went through, it had to be bad to spark a night terror like that...

_(end flashback)_

* * *

A few hurried searches and couple of stubbed toes later, he found the flashlight on the closet shelf and made his way back down the hall towards the kitchen. Everything seemed normal enough, but Axel couldn't help but feel something in his chest when he noticed Demyx standing by the entry way, looking down the opposite hall, his long and thin fingers gripping tightly at the front of his shirt. He was still, pale, looking incredibly unnerved by something. When Axel tried to tap his shoulder, he turned and grabbed him by the arm and pulled him to the entry way, making a motion with his hands to be silent.

Nothing came to him but the dull hum of the overhead kitchen lights and the whirr of the ceiling fan in the living room across the way. The hall was empty. There were no sounds of anyone walking around, no weird noises. Just the rain outside and other average noises. "Dem, what the hell are you-" Demyx covered his mouth, hand pushing forcefully against his lips, wide sea green eyes pleading for him to listen closely. Axel sighed through his nose, rolling his eyes. But he didn't attempt to speak again, humoring Dem, but only because he seemed incredibly freaked out about something.  
The harder he listened, the less he heard. It wasn't until he felt Demyx's hands grasp his right arm in a crushing vice that he dared to believe the fright that lined those wide eyes. He listened once more... and then felt his heart quicken a pace when heard it.

**_The tides of fate meet the sands of time_**

**_til morn we shower the dead with tears_**

**_and shun the living with hate sublime_**

**_the effigy of our years . . ._**

Someone... Someone was singing. Slowly. Softly.

_**we hold their heart we hold their lies**_

_**we play the part of friendly foe**_

_**because, you see, we all will die**_

_**and to hell these hateful souls will go**_

The words were enough to make one uncomfortable, but... what really sent a chill down his spine was the tone this person was using. It... It sounded like a fucking child. Like a kid singing some happy little nursery rhyme.

**_how fun it is, their flesh to cut_**

**_the lovely red that blooms within_**

**_and nicely sew their mouths right up_**

**_and silence their awful din._**

**_I like to break their little bones_**

**_the ones who go astray_**

**_fill their throats will molten stones_**

**_so they never get away_**

Demyx turned his gaze back to Axel with renewed terror. Axel returned the look, his own face a touch paler than it was before.

**_Because this is the law of our kin_**

**_when the little sheep go astray_**

**_I find them through their hidden sin_**

**_and take their souls away_**

_**The tides of fate meet the sands of time**_

_**Til morn we shower the dead with tears**_

_**and shun the living with hate sublime**_

_**the effigy of our years . . .**_

A crack of lighting lit the sky outside, the roaring thunder nearly defeaning. The lights flickered and dimmed violently before going out completely. Demyx let out a startled shriek as Axel fumbled to turn the flashlight on. "Dem, stop squeezing my arm so tight..!" he hissed quietly, "I can't feel my hand!"

"A-A-Axel..?" he stuttered, pointing a shaking finger down the hall.

Axel shone the flashlight where Demyx indicated, brow furrowing as he carefully scanned the end of the hall. The voice had stopped, and now the only thing to reach his ears was the storm raging against the walls outside of the house. Nevertheless, he kept the beam of light carefully trained down the hall, noting the slight tremor in his voice when he cleared his throat and said, "I... ah... I don't see anything, Dem. Maybe it's just the kid watching something on the TV."  
Demyx seemed unconvinced, pressing closer to the redhead's side. "Dem, come on, there's nothing to be -"

_**The little sheep who went astray**_

_**no help will come from your call**_

Both of them jumped, the beam of light, flicking from one side of the hall to the other. It definitely wasn't the TV that was making that noise. The power was out... which mean that someone was down there. Someone was down there, and they weren't sure if they wanted to find out.

_**will you not come and play today**_

_**little sheep at the end of the hall**_

Axel and Demyx froze, the blood in their veins running cold as they realized the song was referring to them. What's more, the beam of light found the source of the morbidly creepy singing... It was coming from the open door, the one that lead to Roxas' room.

* * *

**Sorry it isn't as long as it could be you guys, but I've got a lot of stuff I need to do right now. However, I do have a few chapters written up that I'm currently revising and editing. So more chapters soon.**


End file.
